Find a Little Bit of Steady as I Get Close
by templetonfugate
Summary: In a small town, they're bound to run into each other eventually. Pre-"Getting the Band Back Together Love Handel" One-Shot


Try as he might, Sherman couldn't help but judge what his patrons checked out. It was one of the few vices that he allowed himself now that he'd fully detoxed. You could say a book's a book, but what did some politician's ghost-written and grossly innacurate autobiography really hold up to the classics? This one was either a sadomachosist or extremely lonely, at least if the cover model in a too-tight pink corset clutching a shirtless, wannabe professional weightlifter was any indication.

"These will be due back in three weeks." Despite their reading choices, Sherman always made it a point to look at his patron's directly in the eyes. "... Bobbi?"

The patron blinked, suddenly giving Sherman a second look over. Quickly, he buried his face into the covers of the books that he was holding out.

"Swampy, is that you? What are _you_ doing here?"

"What does it look like?" He motioned towards his name tag.

Bobbi grinned. "Whatever pays the bills, right?"

"Y-yeah." His eyes wondered the library, taking in the backs of students' heads half buried in textbooks and old ladies sorting through paperbacks. "It might not seem like much, but it's a life."

"Can't say I'm doing so bad myself. Have you ever been to the Hair Emporium? It's my little slice of Povenmire Avenue." He leaned forward suddenly, taking some of Sherman's hair between his fingers. No wonder he hadn't recognized him! If he ever came back to the library's main branch, Bobbi would have to get used to seeing it grey. "Are those split ends?"

"Bobbi," Sherman began, pushing his rolling chair back.

A loud clearing of the throat was the only response the librarian got, and even then it was from another patron. Turning, Sherman gave the woman a shaky grin. He took the library card from her outstretched hand.

"Will this be all for you?" He could only hope so, unless she had a second set of hands to hold another stack of books.

"Yes," she replied.

By the time she was checked out, the only other people standing by Sherman's desk were a bored looking teen and an old man leaning against a cane.

It was only as he was checking out a graphic novel with a worn spine that he noticed the business card on his desk. It read "Bobbi's Hair Emporium" in a curled script that just barely couldn't be considered cursive.

Well, he had been needing a new bookmark.

* * *

It wasn't that Danny didn't trust Zinnia to run the store properly while he was out, but like a parent testing out a new babysitter, he couldn't help getting nervous. The bell over the door jingled as he hurried inside. The college student didn't so much as meet his gaze, too engrossed was she with a customer at the front of the store.

"This shouldn't take long at all, but cleaning will add some extra time. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh, I'm in no rush. My nephew's birthday is still two months away."

Danny froze mid-step. The white hair should have been enough of an indication.

"Hey, Danny!" Zinnia waved at him. "You're back just in time. Do you have a time estimate for how long this repair will take?"

"Danny?" Bobbi repeated. He turned, running a hand through his hair. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

Despite the double fudge shake he'd downed during lunch, his throat was suddenly dry as a desert breeze.

"Zin," he said, gesturing towards the door. "Enjoy a long lunch today."

She raised an eyebrow, dyed the same grapefruit color as her hair, but said nothing. She just grabbed her leather jacket from behind a chair and hurried out.

Bobbi gave him a half-hug. Danny gave him what he hoped resembled a smile.

"What brings you here?" As if he didn't see the bass on the wooden counter. It was a bit scratched and dusty, but otherwise looked okay.

"I just wanted to give this old boy a tune up before I give him to my nephew. He and his little friends have played about every garage within six blocks of their neighborhood!" He turned towards it. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

More than he could probably imagine.

"I was a bit scared to let this go at first, but figured he'd do more with it than I ever do these days."

"That's a shame." Danny's throat tightened.

He shrugged. "That's life, I suppose. I can't say that my job gives me a chance to use it like yours does."

Hurrying behind the desk, Danny looked the bass over. No, it wasn't too bad at all. "This probably won't even take me three days."

"Wonderful! Should I pay now or when I come back?"

He didn't even have to think his response over. "Later!"

"Perfect! See you then."

Danny nodded. "Be sure to tell your nephew happy birthday for me, okay?"

* * *

"Is this seat taken?"

Sherman's only reply was a series of coughs that sent bits of his pecan pie into his napkin.

"You okay?" Danny put his plate down and hurriedly put his arms around Sherman's sides.

"I-I'm fine." There was the stutter again, that little impediment that never fully went away. That little buddy of his that always kept him behind the drums. "Just went down the wrong way, is all."

"You sure?" Danny sat down and popped a fry in his mouth.

He nodded. "It's nothing serious." He cleared his throat. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"With their sandwiches, it shouldn't be a surprise." Danny leaned over and took a bottle of ketchup from the table. He shook it with just a bit more force than necessary. "You aren't expecting anyone, are you, Swampy?"

Sherman hurriedly stuffed another bite of pecan pie into his mouth.

"I'm serious. If a stream of ladies are meeting you here, I'd like to know." He winked.

"Oh no, I just didn't feel like cooking tonight." He gritted his teeth.

"Damn the bad luck. At least there's always tomorrow." He took a bite of his burger. "So how's life?"

"Oh, you know." Perhaps if Sherman had said it with enough force than he'd have been able to at least make himself believe it.

"Can't say I do. It's been..." He counted on his fingers. "Unless I'm off, twenty-three years."

He forced a grin. "Add about ten years."

"You're probably right. But seriously, how is it?"

"Oh, you know..." Sherman repeated, stuffing some more pie into his mouth. "The works."


End file.
